


There's Something About Petunia

by Pinepitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepitch/pseuds/Pinepitch
Summary: Harry finds out some information and tries to reconcile it with his childhood of neglect. Reconnecting with Petunia is his best option...





	There's Something About Petunia

Harry stood outside the house, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The garden reminded him starkly of Number Four, Privet Drive. But it wasn’t. This was the newest place the Dursley’s had set up home. Almost every two years since the wizarding war, they had moved, and Harry had his suspicions that it was because of Vernon’s paranoia.   
He wondered what he’d find inside. Was Dudley still living at home? Or had he moved out to an equally boring home to live an equally mundane life? Realising he knew so little about the people he had grown up with was a little scary. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a happy childhood, but more than twenty years after he had last seen them, and he couldn’t help but wonder. Would Vernon be even heavier, Petunia’s tall frame hunched by time? He raised a shaking fist, rapping his knuckles three times on the door. He waited. And waited. Every second stretched on as though it was taunting him. Then came a yapping. And suddenly, Petunia was opening the door. 

She was still just as pinch faced and put together as he remembered. Her hair was a steely grey colour now, and pinned up carefully on her head. Wrinkles had formed where she puckered her mouth into a scowl, and she had an undeniable air of sadness. In her arms was a ridiculous white dog. Fluffy fur brushed so it resembled a cloud with a green ribbon tied into the centre of its head, it continued to yap at Harry when the door opened.   
“Hush, hush.” Petunia said, before looking at the man on her doorstep. “Yes? Can I help you?” He realised she didn’t recognise him.   
“Um, Aunt Petunia. It’s me.”   
“Me?” She snapped. “Who is me?”   
“Harry, Aunt Petunia. It’s Harry.” The woman’s eyes widened, and the little dog got free, jumping out of her arms to dance around and nip at Harry’s feet.    
“Harry Potter!” Petunia croaked. Her voice took on a quality he hadn’t heard for some time. He was about to be lectured. He braced himself. “You had better get yourself into the living room and explain this, right now!” He slunk right past her, having figured this would happen. He slid into the living room and perched on the sofa. Given he was taller than her, she no longer intimidated him, and he was willing to listen to what she had to say after everything he had learned. He was here to apologise, not berate.   
“You show up, two -  _ two  _ \- decades after you leave to fight in some war that we know almost nothing about?!” She had a finger pointed at him, gnarled knuckles waggling in reproach. “You know, we thought you were dead! Thought those wizards were coming for us next!” Tears glistened in her eyes.   
“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbled.   
“Do you even  _ realise  _ what I’ve been through? You were the last part of Lily I had!” She finished on a choked sob, settling herself into a chair opposite him. He didn’t expect that.   
“I came to apologise.” He said quietly. Eyes watering, she looked up at him.    
“Apologise? I should be the one apologising for the way we treated you, you poor boy.”   
“That’s actually why I’m here.” Fiddling with the zipper on his coat, Harry forced himself to meet his aunt’s eyes. “Is Dudley around? I figure he could use the information I’m about to give you.” Petunia’s eyes clouded over.   
“Dudley passed away, Harry.” She said steadily. His heart froze. His cousin, the only one he had, was dead. And the last exchange they’d shared was the closest to family they’d ever been.   
“How?”    
“It was after the first time we moved. Oh Dudley… he was so in awe of you. He decided to do what he could. Started evacuating muggles from areas we suspected those dark wizards were in.” Harry remembered something like this. Muggles being interviewed about freak accidents they’d narrowly missed being caught in by ‘a madman raving about the end of the world’.   
“He was killed by Voldemort.” It wasn’t a question.   
“Or one of those awful hooded followers of his.” Petunia responded. Harry had to speak around the lump in his throat.   
“I’m sorry.” He said. Petunia took one of his hands in both of hers. It was an uncharacteristically comforting gesture from her.   
“Me too.” She whispered. “Vernon passed last year. Had a coronary on his way to work.”    
“So you’re alone now?” He asked, looking around the room. It was stuffed with pictures of the Dursley family.   
“Except for Daisy.” She nodded at the dog now settled by her feet, glaring suspiciously at Harry.    
“I always hoped you’d come back so I could apologise. Since you left, I’ve wanted to make amends. I just don’t understand how I could be that vicious to a child.  _ Especially  _ the last reminder I have of my sister. My Lord, you have her eyes. Did I ever tell you that?” The man on the sofa suddenly felt like a little boy again. This was the aunt he’d always dreamed of.   
“I know why you were like that…” He began, taking a breath. “What do you know about genetics?”   
“Not much.” Petunia admitted. “Just that some genes are dominant, and some are recessive, like brown and blue eyes.”   
“What if I told you the wizarding gene is recessive?” He said, blurting it.   
“What do you mean?”   
“So...you and - and my mother both had it. But it only showed in her.”   
“You mean I’m a witch?” Petunia’s eyes widened again, and he imagined this was what it was like for her as a child.   
“No, no. But you might have some qualities of one, just unpredictable. Maybe not noticeable. Like psychics and mediums.”   
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”   
“Aunt Petunia. You had nightmares when I was a child. You were on sleeping pills for them.”   
“This has nothing to do with - “ He cut her off.

“Your nightmares were about my mother - about Lily - dying. You saw it.”   
“This is ridiculous.” Petunia’s tone was taking on a hard edge and he knew he had to make his point, and quickly.   
“You had those dreams because I had them. Because I saw Mum die.” He barely took a breath and looked at her face. The dawning horror. “And you were mean to me because I never had a nice thought about you.” He closed his eyes, giving her a moment to process this information. Hermione had warned him about telling her all this, but since she had been the one to provide the evidence from her work, she couldn’t say much. And he couldn’t go through life thinking that the animosity between them existed only due to some genetic fluke.   
“You’re saying I’m psychic.” her voice was strangely muffled, and he opened his eyes to find she had covered her mouth with a hand.   
“I’m saying you have some sort of empathetic ability and picked up on my thoughts as a child.” Petunia was shaking her head. “You don’t believe me?”   
“No, I do, and that’s the problem. My head was always too full. That’s why I was first attracted to Vernon. Somehow, the world was quieter around him.” Harry didn’t voice his opinion on how boring the man was. Quiet indeed.   
“I was kind of hoping we might be able to start again. I’d really like to know more about my mother.” Harry said. “I’d like to know more about you.” Petunia was crying in earnest now. Harry got up to hug her, but she shrugged him off. SHe dabbed at her face with an embroidered handkerchief.   
“Put the kettle on, Harry. I’ll go get some photos."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this was written because my friends and I came up with a pretty cool theory about wizard genes, and then a pretty girl asked me to write this (you know who you are). Naturally, I obliged.


End file.
